


Chatty

by yeaka



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Ficlet, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:05:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angie impresses Peggy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chatty

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I know zero about Marvel beyond this show; heads up. Special thanks so much to abbeyjewel for betaing!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Agent Carter or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s too late now to head back, which was part of Angie’s plan all along: why would she ever want to leave? Peggy’s rooms, somehow, are nicer than hers, though she’s been here much longer and put in much more of her personal touch. Peggy’s just seem to stay _spotless_ , but that might be more from disuse than anything. It’s nice to have caught Peggy on a simple night in, when she’s not cloying for excuses to flitter away.

She’s explained over and over again, _“It’s work, darling, can’t be helped,”_ but it doesn’t stop Angie from sneaking below the blankets and locking her arms around Peggy’s, in the hope that Peggy can’t leave. Ever again. Under the darkness of the night, Angie worms her way along Peggy’s side, tight up to Peggy’s body, knowing they both have work tomorrow and should _sleep_ , but they have so few nights like this and she wants _more_. Always does. From the minute she met Peggy, she knew: _that_ one. _That’s the white knight that’s going to steal my heart away._

Peggy, on her back with one hand between her head and the pillows, lets Angie latch onto her other arm. Angie slips one knee over Peggy’s, brushing along warm skin, sidling up to press their thighs together, to roll half on top of Peggy and rub against the still-moist valley between Peggy’s legs. Angie drapes her arm across Peggy’s stomach and leans her head on Peggy’s shoulder, chestnut curls tumbling over Peggy’s breasts. They peek out just over the blankets, and Angie has half a mind to reach over to the nightstand and flick the light on, just for another look. But she lies where she is instead, because they’ve hit one of those magic moments of quiet and cuddling. Peggy’s free hand drops into Angie’s hair and starts to pet through it, a move that always makes Angie want to purr.

“Should we fetch our pajamas?” Peggy finally asks, breaking the sweet silence, to which Angie only chuckles. You couldn’t pay her to get back into her restrictive uniform and too-tight bra.

“Not on your life, English.” Besides, she enjoys the feel of Peggy’s skin on hers too much, and if she’s going to break one of society’s deepest taboos, she at least wants to collect all the benefits. She hears Peggy sigh in acceptance, then feels Peggy shift beneath her, lifting up. Peggy bends to kiss her forehead, and Angie smiles.

Then Peggy’s detangling from her. Angie lets her go with a disgruntled noise and a lingering hold, though she does, in the end, relinquish Peggy’s limbs. Peggy assures her with a coy grin, “I’m only getting water.” And Angie sticks out her tongue, because she doesn’t care what the reason is; she doesn’t want to give Peggy up.

The upside is that when Peggy climbs out of the covers, she’s naked in the moonlight, streaming through a half-covered side-window. What the darkness covers, Angie can fill in; she’s seen, touched, and tasted every inch of Peggy’s body. But she never minds seeing it again, and she watches the way Peggy’s full hips sway as she makes her way out of the bedroom, hand dropping to flick on the dial of the radio on the way.

That was her mistake. She’s already gone by the time that awful Captain America program filters into the room, and Angie has to groan to herself, throwing her arm over her eyes and twisting in the sheets. The storylines are always cheesy at best, the men cliché and irritating, and the woman is written as little more than a doormat with an intentionally nauseating voice. She rasps out every word like she’s in the middle of an orgasm, and by the time Peggy strolls back in with her glass of water, Angie moans, “Turn it off.”

She barely has to say anything. Peggy finds the program just as difficult, and as soon as she realizes what’s playing, she’s flicking it off again. The ensuing silence is a welcome change, followed only by the gulp of water.

When Peggy gets back to the bed, she offers the glass to Angie, who takes a swig of what’s left, then reaches across Peggy to put it down on the nightstand. “I still can’t believe they rejected me for that ninny,” she sighs. “If all they wanted was a sex symbol, rather than a real woman, I could’ve done that.”

Peggy, settling back into the covers, does her usual knowing smirk as she muses, “I happen to find sexual women as real as the others.” She gives Angie a pointed look that has Angie shoving her with a giggle, not even bothering to go through the you-know-what-I-mean routine.

Instead, she insists, “Well, I could do it, in any case.” 

Peggy makes a noise of accession that’s probably agreement but Angie takes as a challenge anyway. After waiting to resettle, she drapes herself back alongside her girlfriend, propped up by one elbow in the pillows. She shifts her knee back over Peggy’s thigh just for that lingering contact, then clears her throat and licks her tongue all the way around her lips, wetting them just for effect.

Then, in the most put-on, breathy voice she can manage, Angie gasps, “ _Please_ , help me! Save me, Captain Carter—”

Peggy, rolling onto her side to give Angie full attention, interrupts with, “Agent Carter.”

“What?”

“Use ‘Agent.’”

A strange request, but Angie shrugs and rolls with it, oozing out her best tramp impression again. “Please save me, Agent Carter, I need you _so_ badly.” Angie means to stop. She wants to smirk, sure she’s made her point, but the smile’s dropped off Peggy’s face, and she’s now eyeing Angie with rapt interest, so Angie, spurred on under the heat of her lover’s gaze, wriggles her naked shoulders like she’s all bound up, tilts her head and half lowers her eyes, moaning, “I need you to save me, Agent Carter! I’ve been kidnapped and I’m completely helpless without you! I’m all tied up with big, thick ropes, and I can’t get free without you to rescue me!” Again, Peggy’s still listening. Angie racks her brain, thinks of the worst patrons of her diner, mashes them together into her own little radio fantasy, spouting off in sexual little pants, “There’s four big, tough guys here, and they’re _so_ mean! I’ve been forced to serve them all day long! But you’re so much stronger, Agent Carter—I know you can protect me from them. Oh, _please_ save me, I need you _so much_ , I’ll just... I’ll just cry if you don’t rescue me! Oh, Agent _Peggy Carter_ , come wrap your arms around me—I know you’ll treat me right—I’d so much rather serve y—”

But she doesn’t get to finish, because Peggy’s lunged across the bed, knocking her down to the mattress, rolling over to twist in the sheets, so Angie’s on her back and Peggy’s atop her, grinding down into her body. Angie tries to gasp again, but Peggy’s kissing her mouth too hard and swallowing all her noises. There’s a wild, almost feral passion to the kiss that sets Angie’s body back aflame, until she’s wrapping her legs around Peggy’s waist and grinding into her just as hard. Maybe the voice isn’t as useless as she thought.

When Peggy finally lets her go, Angie wants to laugh, half delirious. It was only meant to be a joke. It takes Peggy a second to crack a smile, and then they’re both giggling like schoolgirls, and Angie pulls Peggy down close enough to rub their noses together.

“You’re delightful,” Peggy tells her.

Angie means to say, _“I love you too,”_ but somehow winds up with, “You’re hot.”

So Peggy comes back down to kiss her, settling in for round two.


End file.
